Life Goes On
by phoenix-0verture
Summary: Everyone has to learn to cope with the aftermath of the war and rebuild the ministry. The best place for Harry to be protected while he pieces himself back together is Hogwarts, with his fellow returning 8th years. Harry is not the only student to return for his protection and rehabilitation. Drarry fic. *updated sporadically, not abandoned*
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Harry woke up slowly, blinking and just laying there, feeling the pain radiate through his body. The only part of him that didn't hurt was his scar, though he barely noticed that over the dull headache at the base of his skull. He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position, taking in his surroundings. He was tucked into his bed, Hermione asleep in a chair pulled up to the side of it, and Kreacher was stoking the fire in the wood stove in the middle of the dormitory.

"Master Harry!" Kreacher squeaked out, ambling over. "Master Harry, you are not to be getting up right now! Ms Hermione is saying that you need to rest, Master Harry." Kreacher climbed onto the bed and pushed Harry back down. He grabbed a damp washcloth from the side table and frantically tried to dab at Harry's forehead.

"Kreacher stop, I'm fine. What day is it? Where is everyone?" Harry asked, feeling disoriented. The events of the war had come rushing back to him and he tried to get up.

Hermione jerked awake, the book on her lap falling to the ground. She looked over at Harry quickly then to the door and back, apparently assessing for danger. She smiled and took the damp cloth from Kreacher. "How are you feeling, Harry?" She moved to the edge of her chair and went to blot at his head with the cloth but Harry grabbed her arm before she could.

"How is everyone?" She sighed and put the cloth back on the side table before folding her hands in her lap. "Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall have both been by to check on you. You're magically exhausted and malnourished, but we figured that already." Harry opened his mouth to interrupt but Hermione kept talking. "We lost a few more people after you, well, came back. When you were dueling Voldemort. The Malfoy's are downstairs and a surprising number of other Slytherins fought on our side of the war. Ginny and Ron are taking the loss of Fred pretty hard right now. All the remaining Death Eaters fled when they saw that Voldemort was dead. Professor McGonagall is working on notifying families and finding next of kin for the dead, and finding people to go in person to tell them. No one has left though. You slept for a while, it's just after midnight now. The house-elves are making food for everyone that's awake as long as you ask, though. People are either exhausted and sleeping, or wide awake trying to help take care of our injured and do anything else they can to help out. Not many people have left. I think we all still feel a bit safer as a group." She trailed off.

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked, guilt settling in like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

"No, Harry. No one expects you to do anything right now. You have to rest, there's going to be a lot to deal with in the morning."

"Well I need to do something. I… I really don't want to go down there and have to talk to each individual person that's still up right now though." As guilty as he felt, Harry knew he wasn't in a place where he could interact with others effectively. Looking into people's faces and what? Thanking them for all the loss they've endured because of him. Apologizing that he was the reason their family and friends were dead? No.

"Harry, no one blames you. You're a hero, you know that." Harry stared past her, trying to push down his guilt. Hermione nodded once in understanding. "I'll take you to McGonagall."

Harry's stomach growled and Kreacher jumped up from where he'd been sitting at the edge of the bed, momentarily forgotten. "Master Harry must eat!" He shouted and apparated out of the room.

"You should put your cloak on if you're going to talk to McGonagall. She's probably in the Headmaster's office now but you never know if anyone is there or who we'll meet along the way." Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed while she talked, moving to stand up. Hermione looked away, worriedly biting her lip. "I should tell you that Ginny is looking for you. She's really worried about you right now. Scared. You should talk to her."

Harry only felt worse, knowing that he had forgotten about Ginny until Hermione just reminded him. He couldn't face seeing her right now. She was grieving over the death of her brother. The death he caused. He caused the deaths of every single person lined up on the cold floor of the Great Hall. Harry sat back down on his bed, a black rushing feeling clouding his vision and filling the inside of his head.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly, putting a hand on his arm.

"Yeah, of course, just lost my balance is all." He wouldn't look at her when he said it. "Let's go." He pushed off the bed again and stood up, steeling himself against the nausea he felt rising.

He and Hermione made their way from Gryffindor tower to the Headmistress' office, taking in the ruin around them. The staircases and hallways had slowly begun to repair themselves already, but there was still rubble and stains on the stone floor. Harry tried not to think about who or what they were from. The pictures on the walls were all empty canvas, the occupants having fled, and broken frames littered the floor, some scorched or torn and broken. There was no password required to ascend the stair case, the stone gargoyle moving aside slowly. It was missing a wing and crumbling in places. Hermione knocked when they arrived and the door opened soundlessly to let them in.

"How are you, Potter?" McGonagall asked, getting up from the desk.

"I'm alive, professor, I think that's all I can say right now." Harry answered, removing the invisibility cloak. He didn't bother asking her how she knew he was there.

"Granger?" She asked, walking up to them.

"Harry woke up and won't rest until-" She was interrupted by a loud crack as Kreacher apparated into the room.

"Master Harry, you must be eating sir." McGonagall transfigured a table and chairs for them to sit and dropped heavily into the chair closest to her. Kreacher set the tray of food down on the table and apparated out of the room, appearing a few moments later with two more trays of food and a pitcher of water.

"Thank you, Kreacher." Hermione said lightly. He bowed and apparated out of the room again.

"What happens now, Professor?" Harry asked quietly, noticing for the first time that his throat was sore and voice hoarse. A deeper level of exhaustion waved over him and pushed him to slouch down in his chair feeling unbearably heavy, like he was being crushed by the atmosphere around him.

"Now you take a biscuit, Potter." She replied, taking one of her own off the tray. "We eat, we recuperate, we take care of ourselves. And then we go downstairs and check in on the others. I suggest you prepare a speech."

"A speech?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yes. A speech. The acting Minister will be here shortly, undoubtedly bringing reporters from the Daily Prophet, if there aren't already people here. There's been countless articles already published about the end of the war, but no details aside from an initial statement I made just hours after the battle ended. You need to address the public."

"But why do I need to do that? Isn't there anything else I can do?" He tried to push down the rising panic but couldn't. "Please. I can't be around so many people right now."

"I know. I'm sorry. But people need to hear from you. They believe in you, and need you to tell them that this is really over. Voldemort is really dead, the war is over. You know no one will believe it unless they hear it from you."

"They didn't believe me when I said he was back, why would they believe me now?" Harry angrily replied, jumping to his feet and knocking the chair over behind him. The trays on the table began to rattle but Harry couldn't see them. Harry was totally disconnected from himself, his vision clouded over with black dots and narrowed down to a pinprick. He felt as though he was stuck in the in-between place when apparating. He clenched his hands into fists and tried to back away, tripping on the chair legs and falling down.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped in alarm. She went to get up but froze at Professor McGonall's hand on her shoulder.

"No!" Harry voice broke. "No." He said again. He was shaking violently, curled up on the floor and grasping at his hair, gasping and moaning. The heaviness had somehow increased leaving Harry feeling like he was drowning.

"Hermione, go to the hospital wing and get Madam Pomfrey please." McGonagall's voice remained calm. Hermione paused, staring at Harry in open concern. "Now, if you will."

Hermione ran out of the room.

McGonagall got up from the table and went to Harry, kneeling beside him. She put a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly and slowly. "I need you to breathe Harry. Listen to my voice, dear. Look at me. Breath in." She drew the word out and paused, counting to 8 in her head. "And now let it out. That's good. Now do it again, breathe with me. Good just like that."

Harry forced himself to focus on McGonagall's words, following along with her breathing. He felt his blinding panic start to subside. He was completely drained and dizzy with lightheadedness but his vision slowly cleared as he came back to himself. He felt the cold stone against his back and under him, rough against his fingers. He pressed his forehead into the floor, and dragged his fingers across it, focusing on the texture.

"Harry?" McGonagall asked quietly. He jumped, not realizing how close she was now. She had sounded like she was calling to him through a tunnel originally. But now she was clearly inches away. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, professor," he whispered, his voice rough and throat raw. He took a few more calming breaths before opening his eyes and lifting his head. The immediate area around him looked like it had been hit by a small tornado, McGonagall not excluded. Her hair was disheveled, the bun blown loose and wisps of hair hanging down around her face.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs but McGonagall stayed on the ground with Harry, making sure he was calming down and safe. Hermione came through the door first, followed by a huffing Madame Pomfrey.

"Oh my," said Pomfrey, taking in the room and the two people on the floor. "Panic attack?"

"Precisely." Replied professor McGonagall. "I told Harry that he would have to speak to the press and the survivors later today. I don't think I realized how badly he'd been affected."

"He should have come straight to me after the battle, Minerva." She was stern, but collected and business-like. She knelt by Harry and started casting spells over him to check his vital signs and magic. "Drink this please, Mr. Potter." She said, handing him a potion bottle. His hands shook too much to open it and Professor McGonagall took it gently from him.

"Here." She said, holding the bottle to his lips for him.

"The whole thing, please." Stated Madam Pomfrey. Harry wouldn't have resisted it if he could have. He recognized it as the Draught of Peace they had to brew in 5th year. One of the many times Snape had harassed and embarrassed Harry in class. He winced, remembering that the man was dead now. He didn't know how to feel about Snape, knowing what he knew, but he was certain that he felt guilt over his death. Another of the countless deaths he had caused.

"How many people died?" Harry asked suddenly.

"Harry…" Hermione started.

"Fifty-five in the battle, at last count." McGonagall replied quietly. She watched him intensely then carried on. "We're contacting family members now. They're still… The bodies are still laid out in the Great Hall. Their families haven't left, so the bodies won't be moved until they take them away." Harry wrinkled his nose. "They're under a stasis spell. They'll stay that way until funeral preparations are made."

"Fifty-five people." Harry repeated. He dropped his head into his hands. If he hadn't taken the Draught of Peace he knew he'd be panicking again by now. Or be crushed into the floor with the weight of his despair. "I killed fifty-five people." He whispered.

"Harry, no." Hermione said from where she was standing out of the way by the doorway. She started to move forward but Pomfrey held up a hand to stop her.

"Mr. Potter," Began Madam Pomfrey. "Those people willingly gave their lives defending the school because they believed in defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Everyone who remained in the castle was given the choice to flee or stay and fight. We didn't stay for you. We stayed to protect the castle. That was our choice. You had nothing to do with a mad man trying to take over the wizarding world and spreading His ignorant blood purity agenda. He would have attacked whether you were here or not. People chose to stay and fight in the battle, refused to turn you over. Your sacrifice when you met Him in the forest is what saved so many of us in the first place. We stayed to fight for peace and love, and to show that He would never be able to beat us down. There was nothing you could have done differently to change His mind. It would have happened with or without you. And if you hadn't defeated Him as a baby and as a child over and over again there would have been more death and torture, and the world as we know it would have been so much worse off. You can't blame yourself for the losses we suffered when you had no control over it and are the one who saved us."

"I understand," Harry ground out bitterly. "But that doesn't change how I feel right now. That doesn't bring them back. That doesn't end the grief I feel for the friends and family I've lost. And that doesn't change the fact that it IS my fault. He chose me to fulfill the prophecy. There's no one left to blame but me."

"How can you think that knowing that even more people would have died without you here?" Hermione asked, her voice thick with unshed tears. "How can you think any of us would blame you for something that was decided before you were even old enough to walk. You didn't choose this, Harry. You're not the one who walked around torturing and killing innocent people."

"But I could have stopped it, Hermione. I could have-"

"Do you hear how crazy you sound right now?" Hermione asked shrilly. "What could you have possibly done to stop this. We did everything we could to end this."

"I should have killed him in the graveyard when he killed Cedric. He wasn't even fully formed then. I should have stopped him from coming back."

"But how could you have done that, Harry, when we hadn't found and destroyed all the Horcruxes yet?" She carried on, sympathy nearly dripping form her voice.

"I don't know, Hermione. I don't know. But I should have done something." He moved to get up and McGonagall and Pomfrey stood up with him, backing out of his personal space. "I'd like to make that speech now, before the potion wears off if that's okay." He knew he sounded sarcastic but he didn't care. He was angry. He felt like everything good left in him had been destroyed along with Voldemort.

He walked out the door without looking at the others in the room. They let him walk out, sensing that he needed space. Hermione waited until she thought he'd be at least halfway down the stairs before following him. "I'll keep in eye on him." She said to no one in particular.

The dinner Kreacher had brought was left behind, now cold and scattered across the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Harry looked around him through the veil of the invisibility cloak. He knew he couldn't get through the school unbothered had he let anyone see him. Kingsley Shacklebolt was standing in the doorway between the Great Hall and the Entrance Hall talking to what he assumed was a reporter from The Daily Prophet. He felt Hermione stop beside and asked in a low voice "how did you know I was here?"

"You're too tall for this now, remember? I can see a bit of your feet." She whispered, doing her best not to move her mouth as she spoke.

"Can you go get them for me? I'd rather talk to the reporter alone first. Don't want anyone to see me right now though."

"On it." She whispered. "Where should I bring them?" She was pretending to look around herself at the rubble in the Entrance Hall. The castle had started repairing itself here in addition to the halls and stairs, but it couldn't clean up what was left behind.

"Just down an empty hall is fine. Maybe a classroom. I'll follow you."

Hermione walked towards the reporter and the interim Minister. "May I interrupt you for a moment?" She asked. "I have someone who would like to speak with you." Hermione inclined her head in his direction subtly and Harry lifted the cloak so more of his shoe was visible for a moment. She walked away without waiting for a reply.

Harry followed the trio down a hallway and into an empty classroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He pulled off the cloak and folded it up, taking his time to think about what he wanted to say.

"Sorry for all the secrecy." He started off. "Thought this might be easier and quicker without any interruptions."

"No problem at all Mr. Potter," Began the reporter. He moved toward Harry quickly, extending his hand. Harry grimaced and started to back away, forcing himself away from the panic bubbling under the potion he'd taken. He didn't like people moving quickly around him, he realized. _That's going to be difficult to hide,_ he thought to himself. A quick glance at Hermione's frowning face showed him that it had already been noticed and he'd hear about it later. Just what he needed.

"Mr. Potter, so nice to meet you. I'm Oliver Jones, reporter for The Daily Prophet. Can you tell me a bit about the final battle and defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" He didn't try to suck up to Harry or offer condolences and pretend he knew him. Harry appreciated that, but it did nothing to tell him how he was supposed to answer or what he was supposed to say. He should have talked to Hermione or thought this through but it was too late now. _As usual_ he thought to himself.

Harry took in the shorter man as he thought about what to say. He had dark brown hooded eyes the same shade as his hair that brushed his equally dark brows. He had a bit of a mousy face but a deep, commanding voice and he stood in a proud manner that suggested he was used to being in control in these situations. He somehow managed to look down at Harry, even though he stood at least a head shorter than him.

"Mr. Jones." Harry repeated. "Erm. Right, well. Voldemort," Harry paused to see if the man would flinch, and was not surprised to see that he did. "is dead, killed by his own killing curse rebounding back at him."

Mr. Jones raised his brows and leaned forward, still scribbling on a notepad Harry hadn't even noticed he'd taken out. "Rebounded? Do you mean, as how you escaped him when he first came back to life?"

"Right. That, exactly." Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably. No one had believed him then that Voldemort was back and killed Cedric Diggory. Of course, the public had no option but to believe him now. And he certainly couldn't say that Voldemort _couldn't_ have killed him because he was not the true master of the Elder Wand.

"Is it true that you went to him in the forest?" He rocked back on his heels and kept writing, glancing between the page and Harry every few seconds. He flipped a page and continued, never slowing.

"Yes." He replied slowly, thinking back to those terrifying moments in the forest. "He meant to kill me there and use my body to encourage everyone here at the school to back down. But Narcissa Malfoy helped me fake my death and everyone refused to back down anyway."

"Narcissa Malfoy?" He repeated. "And no one here knew that you were faking your death?" His brows were hidden up under his hairline and the speed at which he was writing was now a blur.

"Yes. The Malfoy family helped our side win the battle and the war, Draco and Narcissa especially." Harry didn't care what happened to Lucius Malfoy, but he owed Mrs. Malfoy his life. "I didn't even tell my friends. I couldn't face saying goodbye to them, or risk them stopping me." His voice was thick and he heard Hermione sniffling behind him, but he kept his eyes on Mr. Jones.

"You're a very brave man, Mr. Potter." The man had paused in his writing to look Harry in the eye. Harry held it for a second and looked away, uncomfortable. He didn't feel brave. He did what he had to. He'd been raised to face Voldemort and die, whether he knew it at the time or not, there was nothing else he'd been meant to do.

In that instant, he hated Dumbledore with every fiber of his being. "If that's all." Harry said, rather than ask, and turned abruptly to leave the room, his shoulders tense and hands clenched again.

"Mr. Potter, if I could have a moment?" Kingsley Shacklebolt asked.

"Of course, Minister." Harry ground out through clenched teeth.

"I'll take my leave then. Thank you, Minister. Mr. Potter." He lingered a moment longer, waiting to see if he'd be asked to stay, or could catch any information before taking his leave. He realized they wouldn't speak until he left and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. Kingsley looked at Hermione for a moment but she stepped closer to Harry and the expression on her face made it clear she wouldn't be leaving him.

"Of course," he said. He looked at Harry. "How are you? Really?" He asked then looked at Hermione. "The both of you."

Harry let out a harsh breath, almost a laugh. Hermione put a hand on his arm and he started to shake it off but she just let it slide down and laced her fingers with his, letting him know he couldn't get rid of her that easily, not after all this. "Well," Harry started. "I killed my parent's best friends, my best friend's brother, and other friends and their families. As well as complete strangers. I've been on the run for a year, living in the woods and endangering my friends and their families. And now I've defeated The Dark Lord," his voice started getting shrill. "And I don't know what to do with myself, I can't face my friends or the people whose families I sentenced to their deaths, and I'm alive when I'm not supposed to be and have nowhere to go and no idea what to do next." He forced himself to calm down, running his free hand over his face and pushing up his glasses briefly, then said "I could be better."

Hermione squeezed his hand tighter and wrapped her other arm around herself. "I obliviated my parents into forgetting I ever existed, went on the run with Harry and Ron to hunt down and destroy Horcruxes so we could defeat Voldemort for good, was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, and survived a war." She responded, shuddering, and wrapped her arm more tightly around herself, stepping closer to Harry so they were leaning against each other. "We're all scarred and I don't think we'll ever be the same. My best friend saved the wizarding world and yet thinks he's a murderer. I think we could all be better," she ended, leaning into Harry.

"That is understandable." Kingsley rumbled in reply. "I want you to know that all Voldemort supporters and ministry employees suspected of supporting him are being detained and interrogated. Aurors have already been dispatched to find Death Eaters that fled the battle before Voldemort died. Families are being found and notified, arrangements are being made. Repairs will be organized soon. The ministry would like for you to be active through these preparations and rebuilding, as a gesture of faith that we can move forward from this. You kids are heroes. Take as much time as you need. But we want to highlight your success. Celebrate you, reward you. The Golden Trio and everyone that stayed to fight in the battle, living in dead. We would like to honor you in some way."

"You move fast." Harry replied, attempting a joke before shaking his head and starting toward the door. "But I never asked for any of this. I don't want to be honored or forced to be a figurehead for strangers to obsess over. I don't want any of this." He left it open behind him.

Hermione watched him sadly and turned back to Mr. Shacklebolt. "I think what Harry means is that he's always been a symbol to the media and he's been an object of speculation ever since he was reintroduced to the wizarding world. I believe I can speak for at least the three of us, and probably other survivors, that we need time to grieve and heal in private. We understand what our success in the battle means for our futures, but we would like to request that we're given at least a bit of time to deal with all this on our own. Thank you for your time, Minister. And congratulations on your promotion." Hermione walked out of the room and caught up to Harry quickly, for he had stopped shortly down the corridor to calm himself down again and wait for her.

"You know you're brilliant, right?" Harry asked, gratitude written on his face.

"I know." She replied. "Let's find our friends and let them know we're okay and leave? Go back to Grimmauld place maybe?"

"Agreed. But let's wear my cloak and skip the speech?"

"Perfect." Hermione replied wearily.

"Have you slept since the battle ended?" Harry asked, worried. He felt heavy and exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

"A bit." She admitted. "It was hard. I had to let Professor McGonagall know where you were and convince Ron to go back to his family. I couldn't stop reliving it all, though, you know? I kept jerking awake thinking I was being tortured by Bellatrix or dueling." She bit her lip and looked way, tears gathering in her eyes. "I don't think I'll ever get the picture of your lifeless body out of my head, Harry. I know you were faking it, but it was really real to the rest of us."

"I'm sorry." Harry replied gently. "I was doing what I thought was best."

"I know." She replied, still sounding tired but less upset. "Ginny is less understanding though. You scared her pretty badly, I don't know if she can forgive you for making her think she lost her brother and then you too all in the same day."

Harry looked away guiltily, staring at the stone wall. "I don't think I can face her after this, 'Mione. I don't want to. I don't think I love her the way I should. I don't think I ever really did. But surviving the war and defeating Voldemort- literally walking up to him and letting him kill me- I have a better perspective on it now. Being willing to die for someone doesn't really mean the same thing when I was willing to die for everyone."

Hermione saw the truth of what he was saying in his eyes. "You're going to break her heart. I know you don't mean to, but one way or another you will." She looked away, a sad look in her eyes. "Let's just go home. We don't have to deal with anything else today. The others will find us when they're ready."

"Do we even have homes anymore?"

"Well, you're the owner of Grimmauld place. I think that's the best we can do for now."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry and Hermione walked into Grimmauld place exhausted and miserable, having managed to leave as uneventfully as possible. They had first gone to see Professor McGonagall, to let her know that they were leaving and would like to do so as quietly as possible. She had agreed that was for the best, but told them to make sure they stopped to check in with Ron's family, to give the group of aurors she was sending to Grimmauld place enough time to check that it was clear and put up some preliminary wards. They agreed and made their way to the Great Hall.

They were pleased to find that most people seemed to be keeping more normalized hours, and the Great Hall was quiet, only a few small groups of 2 or 3 people quietly talking when they walked in. Hermione appeared in the doorway alone, Harry unseen under the invisibility cloak beside her. She spotted Ron, George, and Ginny sitting together under a dim candle by the far-left corner of the room and walked over, carefully stepping around people sleeping on the floor. The dead had been moved from the center of the Great Hall to be lined up where the High Table was normally set up. The house tables had been pushed up and stacked against the walls, to make enough room for the Hall to hold anyone and everyone who wasn't ready to leave.

Ginny and George looked up as Hermione approached, eyes rimmed red and puffy from crying. Ron looked down at his hands, where he was playing with the laces of his shoes. Harry moved to sit beside Hermione, using her as a buffer between him and Ginny, and moved his cloak so his only his head was visible. George laughed weakly, Ron looked up unsurprised, and Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. They all sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

"So, you're not dead." George joked halfheartedly.

"Not anymore." Harry replied dryly. George gave a short laugh and replied. "Wish it went that way more often." He looked sad but continued. "Really. Glad you came back for us."

Harry glanced at Ginny who flicked her hair and looked away. Ron finally looked away from his shoes and added "Don't know what we would have done without you, mate." His gaze turned to Hermione and lingered for a second before darting away.

"Ginny, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry asked abruptly. He got to his feet and moved to help her up. She took his hand and squeezed it, but Harry somewhat reluctantly let go as they walked toward the door.

In the Entrance Hall Harry turned to her and opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted him. "I don't want any excuse. I know you. I know right now you're feeling guilty and want to be alone. But don't use that as an excuse for what you're about to do. At least tell me what it really is." She crossed her arms over her chest, her facing getting red.

"You're right, I do want to be alone. But it's not that I want to get away from anyone specifically, it's just… I don't know." Harry stopped, immediately knowing that was the worst way he could have started.

Ginny stepped back, whipping her hands down and sliding her wand out of her sleeve to point it at him.

"Ginny…" Harry said quietly. She glared at him.

"I gave you space. I backed off and I waited for you to grow up and we were so happy… and then you left me. I understand why you had to go and why I couldn't come with me. But don't stand there and look at me with that heartbroken look on your face and try to explain whatever it is for why we can't get back together now that you're home and safe." She looked away, blinking quickly. Harry waited, watching her through his eyelashes. "I think we both need time right now." She finished bitterly.

"Gin, I'm sorry."

"Don't 'I'm sorry' me, Harry Potter. My brother just died and you-" She cut off with a choked sob and turned away from his outstretched hand.

"I never meant for it to come to this." Harry whispered.

"No, I don't think you broke my heart and then killed my brother on purpose. But he's still dead and I really don't want to see you right now." She started to walk away and Harry let her go.

"She just needs time, dear." Molly Weasley said softly, pulling a blanket around her shoulders, and standing looking lost just inside the door. "She's grieving. We all are." She put a hand to her mouth and turned away, going after her daughter.

Hermione passed her on the way in and gave her a small nod and reassuring smile that Molly shakily returned. "Let's get out of here." She said and led him towards the door. They were just stepping out when McGonagall called to them from the stairs.

"Mr. Potter." She called softly. "I'd like to speak with you later. I will come by once you've had some time to rest and things calm down a bit more here." She turned to walk back to her office, and Harry noticed for the first time ministry members she had been speaking with on the stairs. _Voldemort coming back to life couldn't even make this day worse right now_ Harry thought to himself. He nodded and turned away without another word to anyone, walking towards the large oak doors.

Hermione fell into step beside him and took his hand in hers. They walked down to the Gates of the grounds, the anti-apparition wards having been one of the first to be repaired, in heavy silence. Hermione was lost in her own thoughts, which left Harry able to ruminate on his guilt.

So now they were back at Grimmauld place for the first time since they had gone on the run. The abandonment showed, though the house hadn't fallen into nearly the level of disrepair as it had been found when Sirius had moved back in. Harry's stomach churned causing a nauseous feeling to rise in his stomach once again at the thought of his godfather. He shook his head and walked in. It occurred to him that the only belongings he had were the clothes on his back and his wand. He couldn't remember where everything else had gone at the moment, not that he cared. He started up the stairs, Hermione behind him. They walked up wordlessly, their feet leaving scuff marks in the dust that had accumulated. Hermione stopped at the first door they came to and turned toward Harry.

"I'm really proud of you." She said suddenly. "For everything that we've accomplished together in the past year. I'm proud of us."

Harry looked away, fighting tears again. "I don't deserve it." He whispered.

"Whether you do or not, I'm still proud of you. Get some rest. I love you. Call me if you need anything." She wrapped her arms around him and pushed into her toes to give Harry a kiss on the cheek before walking into the room and closing the door behind her.

Harry continued down the hallway, passing other bedrooms until he got to the bathroom. He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He walked up to the sink and ran the water, waiting for it to turn hot. Hands on either side of the sink, he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked exhausted and like he'd aged 10 years in the time he was on the run. He had a few new scars that he could see on his face and arms, and had dirt in his hairline and still on his clothes, but that didn't bother him. What really scared him was his eyes. His mother's eyes. They looked empty, dead. He looked as broken as he felt.

Harry broke his gaze and took his glasses off, setting them aside. He cupped his hands under the stream of water and flinched but didn't remove them. He deserved the burning sensation. Secretly he kind of liked it because at least he could feel something. He held the water in his hands, watching it overflow, and then brought his face down close enough so he could wash up. The heat stung against the more sensitive skin but again, it brought him a small sense of satisfaction and comfort. He repeated the motions a few times until he felt a bit clearer headed.

Harry brushed off the excess water on his face as best he could, grabbed his glasses, and went off to find himself a room for the night. He found one and went inside, closing the door behind him and muttering a spell under his breath to lock it. He turned towards the bed and grimaced then cast a quick refreshing charm to make the bed at least seem less musty, before climbing in.

He didn't know how long he stayed on that bed, curled up on his side staring into the darkness. At some point tears started to leak out and he let them. The quiet weighed heavily on him and soon he found himself crying in earnest, gasping for breath, with a hand over his mouth trying to muffle the sounds of his sobs. Harry stayed like that until he calmed down enough to breathe properly. He got out of the bed and left, padding quietly down the hall towards Hermione's room. He knocked softly and held his breath, listening to see if Hermione was still awake. He heard a faint click of the door unlocking itself and a muffled "Come in."

Harry opened the door softly to find Hermione sitting up in the bed, propping herself up with one arm. She had her hair partially covering her face and it was too dark to see, but he thought that she had been crying too.

"I don't think I can sleep alone." Harry whispered into the darkness. "It's too quiet. It feels like a trap."

In response, Hermione scooted over in the bed and flipped the blanket back. "Thanks." Harry whispered.

"I was feeling the same way." She whispered back.

Harry lay there in the darkness for a few seconds before sinking into a deep sleep. "Goodnight, Harry." Hermione whispered while snuggling down into the blanket.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry woke to bright light streaming in through the window. He assumed it was sometime after noon. The other side of the bed was empty and cold, and Harry tried to hunch down under the blankets more. He was happy to just let himself lay there and avoid whatever responsibilities were waiting for him. A chair in the corner of the room held clothes Harry recognized as his own, probably left there for him by Hermione. _At least someone thought to bring our stuff_ Harry thought to himself. It was amazing that Hermione must have still managed to hold on to the small spelled bag that housed every essential item they owned through everything, even the final battle.

Harry got up slowly, his body still aching and sore. He grabbed the clothes and left the room, hoping a hot shower would ease his muscles and finally make him feel clean. He couldn't actually remember the last time he had bathed. Doing so for relaxation as well as wash up was nearly a foreign thought to him now. Hermione walked out of the bathroom as he was walking towards it, her wet hair wrapped in a towel but otherwise clothed.

"Sleep well?" Hermione asked kindly.

"Er yeah thanks." Harry had slept well. Probably the most restful slumber he'd had in years. "Any hot water left for me?"

Hermione stuck her tongue out as she passed him, continuing down the hall. "More than enough. McGonagall owled, she'll be over in a few hours. I'm going to make us some breakfast so take your time."

"Thanks, 'Mione." Harry replied, entering the bathroom and closing the door. He avoided his gaze in the mirror this time, not wanting to look himself in the eyes. He'd woken up feeling rested but now the guilt and shame were settling in, weighing him down like lead chains.

He started the shower, turning it as hot as he could bear before getting in. Standing under the stream of water, he imagined himself as someone out of a sad film with rain pouring down on them. With that pathetic image in mind he sat down on the floor of the shower, leaning back against the wall and letting his head loll back. He stayed there long after his body had gone numb, staring at the drain, and thinking of nothing. It was easier to pretend he didn't exist and lose himself in the steady rhythm of the water than to let himself think. Finally, he got up, not knowing how long he'd stayed in that position for, only that it hurt to move and stand. He went through the motions of washing and finally got out, thankful for the magic that had kept the water on the edge of painfully hot for so long.

The mirror was fogged up so he didn't have to actively avoid looking at himself. His body felt better, muscles more relaxed and the constant headache had receded to an almost nonexistent buzz of pressure. He towel dried, using the now clean towels Hermione must have left in there, and dressed quickly. He'd had enough time to let himself be miserable for now and had to pull himself together and get downstairs for breakfast before Hermione started to worry about him.

Once dressed, he made his way down to the first floor and went looking for Hermione in the dining room. Not finding her he went down to the basement, where the kitchen was to find her sitting at a small table reading the Daily Prophet.

"Your piece is in here." She said, and sipped her tea. Harry sat across from her and helped himself to the toast and bacon that was set out. He didn't know where she had gotten the food but it didn't matter, he was ravenous. "Kreacher stopped by with some food from the kitchens at school. I think Professor McGonagall sent him. We should probably go grocery shopping later today."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, chewing the toast and putting an egg on his plate. Hermione slid a cup of fruit towards him.

"Half past 2. The others should be here soon."

"Others?" Harry swallowed and asked. He wasn't expecting other people to be here too.

"Yes. McGonagall is bringing some aurors with her and there's going to be an Order meeting tonight."

"Right. To talk about rounding up the remaining Death Eaters."

"Er yes. You should know…" Hermione trailed off and glanced at him over the paper she was still reading. "I think they might be bring Lucius Malfoy along."

Harry went cold. "And why, exactly, would they be doing that?"

"You should read this." She replied and handed over the paper.

 **MALFOY CHANGE OF HEART**

 **Lucius Malfoy turned himself into aurors after the Battle of Hogwarts. An admitted Death Eater, he has come forward to supply names of comrades who escaped before the final battle ended (see page 2 for current list of names). The Malfoy family sided with "Dumbledore's Army" and other participants of the Battle of Hogwarts at some point after the battle began, being seen sitting with survivors shortly after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was vanquished by Harry Potter (See page 1 for more information from Harry Potter himself). Malfoy maintains that his family had nothing to do with his actions as a Death Eater and were held captive by the Dark Lord when he took over Malfoy Manor. While his wife, Naricissa Malfoy nee Black, was held captive physically, his son, Draco Malfoy, was held under constant threat at Hogwarts castle, under the eyes of Alecto and Amycus Carrow. The Carrows are both in ministry custody.**

 **Lucius Malfoy maintains that his wife and son were never directly involved with the Dark Lord and are not death eaters, as has been rumored. Officials in the ministry were not available to confirm this, however the family is no longer under question at this time. Malfoy will be assisting ministry officials and aurors in finding the escaped Death Eaters in return for a more lenient sentence and protection for his family (See page five for possible new laws, policies, and proceedings in face of the imminent shut down of Azkaban).**

Harry finished reading and looked at Hermione. "I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to believe from this. They're just letting him go?"

"I don't think we have the full story yet. I just wanted you to know in case he does end up being brought to the meeting tonight." Harry didn't know how she could be staying calm at this news. He didn't know how to feel. Angry, perhaps, that Lucius would be getting off lightly. Dumbfounded that the ministry was going along with this story. He was most confused over what he should feel about Draco and his mother, though. A small part of him was glad they were being spared. Narcissa Malfoy had saved his life after all, even if it had been in the interest of protecting her son however she could. And as much as he couldn't stand Draco, he was glad that he would get the chance to turn his life around. No one deserved to have their whole life doomed from the time they were a child.

"Thank you, then." Harry replied after dragging himself away from his thoughts.

"So we have probably another few hours or so before anyone starts arriving, do you want to start cleaning? Maybe at least the dining room and front hall anyway so it doesn't look so bad for our guests?" Hermione asked lightly with fake cheer. Harry knew she just wanted to keep him busy and he appreciated it.

They spent the next two hours cleaning. Whatever Death eaters had set up camp in the house had trashed the place. They broke furniture, ripped open cabinets and thrown the contents in every direction. There were scuffs marks on the floors that suggested a few small fires may have occurred. At some point, it looked like Walburga Black's painting in the front hallway had also been set on fire, explaining why the woman hadn't started her unearthly shrieking when Hermione and Harry first walked in. The frame was scorched, the canvas hanging down in one corner and looking as though someone had tried shredding it as well. Miraculously, when Harry tried taking the picture down it detached from the wall without protest. He set it aside to be dealt with later.

In a stroke of luck, no other creatures had moved into the house in their absence. Hermione set to work repairing furniture while Harry took care of the dust and other disrepair. In less than an hour they managed to have the front of the house looking clean and habitable, like nothing had ever happened in the first place.

"We should redecorate." Hermione said thoughtfully. "Bring some more light into the house, paint, that sort of thing. Maybe replace some of the older furniture."

Harry laughed in response and tilted his head back against the wall they were sitting against, now thoroughly exhausted. Harry extended his legs in front of them, marveling at how spotless the floor was. For a short time he'd been completely distracted from the whirlwind going on inside his head. It had felt great.

"You don't like the antiques?" He replied

"Maybe not the antiques per say but they just give off a bad energy. I want to make this place feel more like ours. Or yours, I mean." Hermione leaned against him with her head on his shoulder.

"You hated divination with a passion, but you believe in 'bad energy' now?" Harry teased with a smirk. His head was resting gently against hers, her hair tickling his nose and slightly muffling his words.

"Diviniation is pomp and nonsense." Hermione replied hotly. "Energy is like magic, existence. The bad energy is probably repressing our own magic right now."

"You sound a bit like Luna, don't you?" Harry laughed. "But no, I agree. Lets redecorate and make the house our own." Hermione smiled against his shoulder and hummed in agreement. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes more, happy to take the time to relax. Hermione was probably already drawing up plans for Grimmauld place in her mind, ready to jump into the new adventure as soon as possible. Harry was simply thinking that it might be nice to have a house with his best friend where they could be safe and have people over, and never worry about having to run or fight for their lives again.

"I'm going to get a drink and maybe start cooking for the meeting. Can you ask Kreacher to bring over more food if he can?" She sat up and braced herself on his shoulder to get up.

"Willing to assign a task to a house elf?" Harry asked, still in a teasing mood. "What would your fellow SPEW members think?"

"Honestly Harry, I think you and Ron would be fine with it. Don't make me send you out instead," Hermione walked out of the room, calling behind her as she went "And it's S.P.E.W."

Harry called Kreacher, arranging for him to bring over groceries as well as something to serve as dinner to feed the Order. He didn't really know how many people would be arriving or what to feed them so he just left it up to Kreacher and Hermione to figure out. And if there were any leftovers then he and Hermione wouldn't have to worry about food for a while.

The doorbell rang just as Harry heard Kreacher's parting crack from the kitchen. Harry answered it and found Professor McGonagall on the door step and ushered her in, moving to close the door behind her. He was stopped by two aurors and Kingsley Shacklebolt apparating onto the doorstep, accompanied by their own slightly quieter cracks compared to Kreacher's, each a few seconds after the other.

"Professor. Minister. Er, aurors." Harry said, letting them into the house. He paused, waiting, for a few seconds before closing the door again. McGonagall took off her hat and coat and walked into the dining room, followed by the other guests. Hermione came up the stairs as they were settling in, carrying a tray with a pitcher and water glasses on it.

"We don't have any food to offer you quite yet." She said. "But soon. Probably by the time everyone else gets here." She offered the tray to the guests and Harry before setting it down on the dining room table.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger. Sit please, the both of you. We have much to discuss and little time to do so."

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other quickly and sat down across from Professor McGonagall and the Minister.


	5. Chapter 5

"As you both know," began Professor McGonagall. "There were a number of Death Eaters that fled during the final battle upon seeing that Harry was still alive. Only his most loyal remained and as a result were either killed or captured. We have no real way of knowing how many of the Death Eaters escaped or who they were."

"Lucius Malfoy surrendered himself to the ministry." Minister Shacklebolt continued where McGonagall left off. "We made a deal with him. He gives us access to all the information he has on the missing Death Eaters, and his family is completely cleared and kept safe, especially his son. They are to be guarded to keep them safe and so that we can keep an eye on them. Draco must return to school in the fall to finish his education, as well."

"You two will also be returning to school in the fall and Harry will be put into protective custody with Draco at that time." Harry stared at Professor McGonagall as though she was meowing instead of speaking plain English to him.

Hermione spoke before he could say anything. "Well of course we're going back to school." She replied. "Do you really think Harry and Draco will still need protection then?"

"Harry will be monitored closely just as a safety precaution. Draco will likely be targeted upon his return. It will be easier to protect them both by keeping them close together."

"Close together." Harry said flatly. "You mean you're having us live together."

"That is the idea Mr. Potter, yes." She looked at him over her glasses as though cautioning him from continuing.

"Well what about Ron and Hermione? Don't they need protection. And Ginny, Neville, Luna. Isn't everyone who stayed at the school for the final battle likely to be targeted now? What about them?"

"I've thought this through carefully, Mr. Potter, and precautions will be put in place to protect those students as well, should they elect to return and continue their studies. I don't expect that many from your year will feel the need to go through the year again. Its being set up that they'll be able to take their NEWTs at the ministry over the summer should they wish to do so."

Harry leaned back in his chair, unsure of what to say now. Hermione took his hand in her and squeezed it gently once.

"Okay." He said. "Continue." Harry hated the thought of returning to the school for a final year. What more could he learn now? How would he carry on through classes, looking at the younger siblings of the dead, families he'd ripped apart.

Hermione squeezed his hand again, harder this time, and he forced himself to focus on what the Minister was now saying.

"We would like for you and Miss Granger to sit through some of the trials for the Death Eaters we have captured, as well as any we capture in the future. You will provide testimony if you know them, vote on their sentence based on their case if you do not." He was saying. Harry glanced at Hermione and saw that she was nodding along in agreement. If she had a piece of parchment in front of her and a quill she likely would have been taking notes. As it were, she was paying attention as raptly as she did in class.

"Of course." Hermione said. "We'll do anything we can to be of help. I can't speak for Harry but I know I would like to be part of the proceedings. But sir, isn't this done by this Wizengamot?"

"Consider it an internship if you wish, Miss Granger." Minister Shacklebolt replied. "I'm planning to work on implementing changes in the Ministry, going forward. The actions that occurred throughout the war show that we need an entire overhaul of the system."

Hermione squeezed his hand again, this time out of excitement Harry could tell.

"What about rebuilding the castle?" Harry asked. "And fixing up the grounds?"

"Hagrid will begin work around the grounds as soon as the school is cleared of all our refugees. Families are still making funeral arrangements and will be moving the bodies beginning tomorrow. I believe there will be a news article announcing dates and plans for the families. Calling hours and such." McGonagall trailed off quietly and glanced at the Minister.

"There will be a wandlighting memorial service once all the bodies are buried. A monument will be built on the grounds, honoring those we lost. There will also be a dedication ceremony when the monument is unveiled." Kingsley lowered his voice and gently continued. "We would appreciate it if you were to say a few words, Harry. We understand if you don't want to, but we feel it might help give closure."

"My words won't bring back all the people who died for me." Harry replied quietly and stood, the sound of his chair falling back and to the floor muffled by the thick carpet. He wrenched his hand from Hermione's grip and stormed out of the room. The atmosphere of the room was charged with electricity, a side effect of what Harry's sudden change in mood did to his magic. Hermione sighed but let him walk away without following, just watched after him sadly. 

"Does he really feel that way?" Minister Shacklebolt asked, shocked.  
Hermione glanced at the aurors standing in the corner. They had raised their wands at Harry's abrupt departure but had settled back, waiting still as statues and almost invisible for it. "He's having a hard time." She finally said. "Its only been a day, of course he is. I imagine he still feels like he's in the middle of the war. But he finally has the time to sit and think about how awful he feels. When we were on the run and lists of the dead were announced, it didn't feel so real. Harry feels like he's to blame." She quickly wiped a few stray tears away and set her jaw. "If you'll excuse me."  
She left the room in search of Harry, uncomfortable with how much she had told them. She said it was Harry who felt that way, but in reality she shared a bit of his guilt. If she had been faster in finding the Horruxes they could have spared more people. She was supposed to be the most brilliant witch of her age, but people still died because she was too slow, didn't know what to do.  
"No." she whispered to herself, leaning against the wall for support. "You did the best you could under the circumstances. We all did." She pushed off from the wall again and made her way up the stairs to the bedroom they had shared the previous night.  
"Harry?" She called quietly and pushed the door open. The room was empty. "Maybe Sirius' room." She went back to the stairs and ascended them to the fourth floor. She paused at the top of the stairs and listened for any noise. Not hearing anything, she continued down the hallway to Sirius' room and poked her head in. "Harry, are you in here?"  
"I just want to be alone right now, Hermione." He was sitting on the floor, his back against the bed with his head in his hands. His glasses were abandoned on the floor a few feet from him. Hermione went over and knelt down next to him.  
"I know you're in a lot of pain right now. I'm not going to make you talk about it and I'm not going to ask. I know you need time. But I want you to know that I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere, okay?" She stayed there until Harry nodded and then wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on his hair. She didn't know how long she held him like that for, just letting him cry into her shirt until it seemed like he had worn himself out.  
She sat back on her heels and summoned a rag over to them. "Augamenti," she whispered. She tilted Harry's head up with a hand under his chin and held him there while she wiped the tears away and washed his face for him. Harry kept his eyes closed, not wanting to make eye contact with her. He wasn't embarrassed to have Hermione take care of him, she'd basically been doing it their entire friendship. But he was ashamed that she had to.  
"Can I show you something?" She asked, pulling him from his thoughts. Harry nodded and she stood up, pulling him up from the floor with her. She walked out of Sirius' room and to the end of the hall to an empty portrait.  
"What?" Harry asked. Hermione smiled slyly at him and tapped her wand against the frame. It swung open towards them, revealing a staircase going up. "Are you taking me to the attic?" Harry asked.  
"You'll see. Lumos." She replied and stepped through the new doorway and headed up the stairs. Harry looked in and lit his wand as well before following her. He listened as Hermione tapped her wand against the door and then watched as it lifted and light filtered into the small space. Hermione climbed out with Harry close behind her. She smiled as she watched him take it all in. As Harry looked around he saw an impossibly large garden, the size of a quidditch pitch with pathways lined by trees crisscrossing and twisting through the space. In the center was a large willow tree with a few benches underneath it and what looked like a fire pit.  
"What is all this?" Harry asked. "How did you find this?" He slowly wandered towards the tree, turning around in circles to look around. He saw fountains and enchanted waterfalls, different kinds of trees and bushes, and multiple plots with different colored plants, statues, and topiary.  
"It's a garden." Hermione replied. "A retreat… It was Sirius'."  
"What?" Harry croaked out. "He never showed me…" His voice fell off as Harry kept craning his head to look around. He knelt down to run his hand through the grass beneath him. "How?"  
"I don't know." Hermione replied. "He just showed it to me when we lived here for most of that summer. He said he came up here because he knew he wasn't allowed to leave but he hated being stuck inside. He said I could use it as a quiet place to get away from all the Weasley's when they got to be too much." She laughed at the thought. "I didn't come up here often because I didn't want to intrude. But I thought this might make you feel a little better to see. Give you a place of your own for refuge."  
"This is amazing." He replied. He hugged her tightly for a few long moments before continuing to walk towards the tree. As the angle changed, he saw that behind the large willow tree was a small white birch tree, and a hammock was strung up between them. He let himself fall into it and swung there, listening to the silence around him. They didn't stay long, but for the time they were there, Harry actually felt like he could relax and be alone with his thoughts. 


End file.
